Why?
by Skytracer
Summary: A personal viewpoint on what could have happened in the final moments before archer's death. Spoiler alert. Very slight archersaber if you squint, but mostly Archer focused. Oneshot.


Hi! copyright stuff here. I don't own fate/stay night, its characters or any of its scenarios.

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A guttural roar pierced the silence.

Archer stood there, watching as the hulking mass of flesh once again began to reform itself into the shape of his opponent.

_Damn, this guy's tough, how many times have I killed him already? Four? Five?_

He'd lost count after stabbing berserker with gae bolg. Lancer may have been a pretty boy, but his noble phantasm had its uses.

_Oh, right. I'd promised Rin I'd hold him off. So why the heck am I still here when I could be getting away already?_

Shiro? No. Sure, he had wanted to kill that idealistic imbecile countless times, he who had survived this far into the war only because of the _sheer luck _that had resulted in him summoning the servant of the widely hailed "most outstanding class". By accident no less. He'd told him what he had needed to tell. As far as he was concerned, the rest was up to him, no matter how he bumbled and stumbled in the process of getting there. Besides, what good is killing the person who your master seems to be (inexplicably) attracted to?

Rin? He didn't think so. In fact, there was no reason for him to return. The random, mysterious surges of power he'd felt as the battle had raged on almost certainly had come from her command spells. She _wanted_ him to fight on, and hey, he'd promised to kick berserker's ass. Still, even with his augmented powers, the possibility of defeating the brute was becoming less and less with every second the battle dragged on.

Illiya stood not far away, her look of initial shock replaced by an expression of cruel triumph on her angelic face. "You're not far from your end. BERSERKER! ATTACK!" At her command, the fallen demigod surged to life, taut muscles rippling underneath his insanely hard skin. His eyes glowed, one a bright orange and one a menacing red.

Immediately, Archer materialized the Rho Aias. If not for his left arm, he'd be able to fight with Kansho and Bakuya- even better, fire arrows at him. But as of now, said arm hung limply at his side. A surge of light, spread across separating the two. When the glow had subsided, seven petals had appeared. As delicate as they seemed, they could block practically everything in the world. Archer smirk as Berserker swung…

Said smirk vanished when the axe club crashed through with literally, herculean strength.

_Oh crap, and now he's got me. And I'm at my limit already. This just couldn't get any better. _

Once again, he was proved wrong as a kick from Berserker lifted him into the air, knocking the wind from him. As if jolted by the sudden impact, an image was jarred from his memory.

_Saber…_

In that split second, he thought he could recall, that the memory was only hung on the tip of his memory. Reality, however, did not give him the chance to ponder, as the ground graciously decided to break his fall.

_Is that why? Is that the reason I failed to move when I first saw her- no- when I first thought I saw her? _

It was as though a memory was struggling to be wrenched from being held at the back of his mind. Subconsciously, he got up, as Berserker charged yet again.

_Who is she to me? Why can't I remember?_

Berserker was rapidly closing the distance between the two.For the last time, Archer allowed himself to drift back. He'd told the boy, _the thing that you image is your strongest form._ So what, what exactly was in his mind? How had he imagined his strongest form to be? He racked his exhausted brain for answers, but only emptiness remained. His memory of noble phantasms had been impeccable, every detail etched perfectly in his mind's eye. Yet, there was something that seemed to be missing. Something…

_So what? What exactly had led that bumbling fool to win that war, what had?_

And then, the answer came. Clear and simple.

_He used his heart. He believed._

He raised his hand, and closed his eyes.

_I've forgotten… what it's been like to believe. So heck, if it'll get me out of this, for the last time…_

A cocky grin spread across his features.

_I'll believe._

A beam of maryoku shot from his arm, he knew it was a sword, but it was a sword unlike any that he had seen.  
Or any sword he thought he had seen.

As if in slow motion, the tracing constructed the sword, the structure, the composition… and within a heartbeat, he knew it was done.

It was a beautiful weapon to behold. The style was definitely English, with a broad and heavy blade. The hilt was blue and somewhat narrow, yet the golden hilt flared forward, curving forward into two blunt prongs, presumably to hold the scabbard. It was of simple make, yet one could tell with a glance that it was not an average sword. And he knew, for all purposes and intents, that it was _her_ sword.

Archer faced Hercules, channeling all his remaining maryoku into the sword, as if he knew its purpose. Somehow, a long forgotten part of him registered that he did. And he knew, what was coming was going to beat the beat the crap out of the insane demigod.

And out came the word.

"EX-"

He swung.

"CALIBUR!"

The world went white.

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Alright, first fanfic. This is basically based on the idea that Archer can use Excalibur in fate. (like in fatal/fake)Yeah he does get somewhat OOC towards the end. I'm hoping for pointers on how to smoothen it out.Hope you've enjoyed it Please Review!!! 


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